


We've Met Before

by iLurked



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman: The Animated Series, The Batman (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bat!Family Fluff, F/M, Felicity Smoak: Batgirl-in-Training, Heavy on the Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, Much like LoT the fic features a lot of time jumps, Work In Progress, light on the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iLurked/pseuds/iLurked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it was Oliver Queen's own fault. After all, he would tell, loudly and brashly, anyone who would listen (and to a few who wouldn't) that he also had a little sister. A real one. Not someone borrowed for just a night. A sister who was cuter, more adorable (and quieter) than the bespectacled, buck-toothed, talkative little brat who seemed to be surgically attached at Bruce Wayne's hip.</p><p>Or, an AU where Felicity Smoak lost her mother at an early age and was adopted by the BatFamily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> There is a ten-year age difference between Felicity and Oliver in this story; and a twelve-year difference between her and Bruce. 
> 
> This will eventually end in Olicity, as indicated in the story tags. While I adore reading about Bruce and Felicity in fics, they will not end up being together here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the year 2000, Noah Kuttler made the fateful decision to keep in touch with his ex-wife and six-year old child, with disastrous consequences.

_ Sometime in 2000 _

He, perhaps for the first time in his life, had arrived too late.

Right before he rang the doorbell, he had heard noises coming from inside. He was thus surprised when no one came to open the door immediately thereafter. After ringing the doorbell a few more times, he tried the doorknob to learn that the door was unlocked. 

Worried, he peeked inside and was confronted with the sight of her sprawled on the floor, her thick, shiny blond hair dyed red with her own blood.

He dropped the bouquet of roses he was clutching in his hands, a gift to commemorate their first date, in his rush to give immediate aid.

While his right hand wildly, desperately searched for a pulse, his left fumbled for the cellular phone in his blazer pocket that he almost left at home for being too bulky and unwieldly.

Unfortunately, she was gone. The level of despair that he felt upon confirming her demise surprised him as he had not known her for a long time. Then he realized that his feelings were she had provided him with a respite from his dreary life. She reminded him of hope and endless possibilities. She was a splash of color against a backdrop of black and white. That was why, even if he was in Las Vegas for only a short period of time, he had surprised himself when he said yes when she asked him out to dinner.

After calling the emergency number, he crouched beside her to wait, to keep her company so she would no longer be alone in her death.

The urge to brush away the lock of blond hair that had fallen on her face was nearly irresistible, but he knew that he should not mess with the crime scene more than he already had.

She did not die peacefully. Assorted knickknacks that one tend to collect in one's home were strewn haphazardly around the woman, pieces of furniture were overturned, electronics were destroyed; all of which indicated a struggle.

(Also, the stench of death had not yet permeated the air, as it was wont to do over time.)

If only he had come a few minutes earlier, he might have been able to save her life. That knowledge would haunt him for the rest of his life.

It was only then that he noticed that her body was oddly distorted, her right arm extended, as if she was reaching out.

Reaching...

For something?

He crouched to see what it was that she was reaching for: perhaps the last object she had seen before she took her last breath.

There. Underneath the couch.

Slowly, his hand reached underneath the gray couch covered with huge cabbage roses in full bloom.

His hand closed on a small object made of plastic that let out a squeak of protest at his manhandling.

His eyes widened when he was able to bring the object out and away from the couch.

It was a three-eyed green monstrosity grinning inanely at him.

A toy.

It was only then that he surveyed the room he was in.

(He was getting soft in his old age, committing rookie mistakes. Maybe because he was too emotionally involved.)

The walls were wallpapered with pictures of her-

Her and a tiny, bespectacled, gap-toothed little girl.

A little girl!

The thought of preserving the crime scene quickly forgotten, he was galvanized into action by his new mission of finding the young child. He might be too late to save the woman but he might (he desperately hoped to) be just in time to help her little girl.

Thankfully, the apartment was small a one-bedroom unit with a kitchenette that also doubled as the dining area.

“Miss?” He called out as he stepped inside a small but clean bedroom which was almost overwhelming in its femininity.

It was obvious that whoever killed her had not yet had the opportunity to ransack the bedroom.

Then he heard it: sniffles.

Thank goodness.

“Miss?” He called again.

There it was again, the sound emanating from the closet.

“Miss?” He deliberately made his steps louder, so as not to scare the little girl. Slowly, slowly, he opened the closet door.

Scared, huge eyes greeted him; eyes that were enlarged by the thick, coke bottle glasses that framed them.

(Her eyes reminded him of a similar pair of eyes, this time steel blue, sporting the same terrified, helpless, and confused expression that assailed him all those years ago.)

A young girl, about five or six in age, was cowering at a corner of the closet. Tear tracks ran down her chubby cheeks, her pigtails were askew, and two hands covered her ears.

“Hello.” He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, but he only succeeded in making his accent more pronounced. “Don't be afraid, young miss. Help is on the way.”

She slowly turned to him. “I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers.” She sniffed before wiping her runny nose with her sleeve.

“That's good.” Was all he could reply. He slowly lowered himself to her height so they could converse eye-to-eye.

“And mommy said that I have to hide here and be quiet until she come and get me.” She continued, breaking her earlier edict of not talking to strangers.

“Did your mother say why you have to hide here?”

“Nope,” she replied with a frown. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper. “But we always play hide and seek whenever daddy's friends visit."

“Your father's friends?”

She nodded, her lopsided pigtails bobbing up and down. "I don't like their faces. They looked mean. And they always shout at mommy. You're not supposed to shout at mommy.” Then, her eyes moved from his face to his hands, something catching her attention.

He looked down and saw that he was still holding on to the little green thing he found in the living room. He extended the toy to her. “Is this yours?”

She nodded again and immediately grabbed the toy the moment it was offered at her.

“This is LGM,” she told him. Then, almost shyly, with a small hand cupping her mouth, “I'm Felicity. I'm six but don't tell my mom I told you.”

“Alright, Felicity.” He replied solemnly. “I promise never to tell.”

“Are you her boyfriend?” She asked him.

“Oh, my.” He could only gape, wondering how much her mother told her about him considering she didn't tell him about her remarkable little girl. “No, I'm not her boyfriend.” Not yet. (And it was only now that she was gone that he realized that he had desperately wanted, no, needed to be hers.)

“Oh,” she deflated. “I think I like you. Maybe you could be her boyfriend.”

“I'm so sorry, Felicity.”

She pouted for a while before a thought occurred to her. “Mommy's going to be here any moment now.” She smiled at him, quick and bright. “She'll come get me after daddy's friends go away. You'll meet her and you could ask her if she could be your girlfriend.”

He didn't think that a little girl could make him blush but he felt the tips of his ears reddening nonetheless. He forced himself to the more important parts of her speech. “You saw your daddy's friends arrive today?”

“They're not s'pposed to see me but sometimes I peek.” She admitted. “I can be sneaky and quiet so I crawled out the closet and opened the door a little but one of daddy's friends started shouting and made my ears hurt, so I hid again.”

“I see.” Was all he could reply. Thank goodness for small favors.

They fell quiet, with Felicity playing with her little green alien, muttering under her breath.

After a moment, she turned to him to ask, “When do you think mommy will come get me?”

The question went straight to his heart.

He was at loss at how to answer her question, so he simply replied, “I don't know, sweetheart. But is it okay if I wait here with you?”

She shrugged, which he took as an assent. She seemed to be struggling with something before she let it all out.

“You talk funny.” She said after a while.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” Then, “Are you James Bond?”

Despite the situation, he couldn't help but smile at her question. His similarity with the popular character ended with the accent, a love of formal wear, and a common (former) employer.

“Aren't you too young to be watching Mr. Bond?”

She shrugged.

“No, little miss. I'm not James Bond. The name's Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth.”

 

* * *

 


	2. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2001, six-year old Felicity tried to outwit her guardian into taking her with him to England.
> 
> In 2002, Felicity met seventeen-year old Oliver Queen for the first time.

_Sometime in 2001_

“But I don't want you to go!” The declaration was emphasized by a forceful stomping of a tiny foot, which he probably should not find as adorable as he did (but she was adorable and cute especially since she was lisping). “Why can't you just stay here?”

“There is a thing that I must do in England, Felicity.” He told her calmly, trying to forestall a possible temper tantrum. An old friend, one from another lifetime, had finally succumbed after years of fighting pancreatic cancer. It is but proper that Alfred pay his last respects.

“Then I'm going with you to England!” Seven-year old Felicity, convinced that she found a go-around to their problem, threw up her hands in victory.

“I'm afraid you cannot go with me to England.” Alfred indicated for Felicity to sit down at the kitchen table, after which he promptly set down a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for the young child.

For one thing, a piece of paper officially appointing Alfred Pennyworth as Felicity Smoak's guardian expressly forbade him from taking her out of the jurisdiction of the United States Government. (Adoption proceedings were stalled while the search for her father's whereabouts was still ongoing.)

For another thing, an old fart like him taking a young girl like her to England may raise more than a few questions.

“Why not?” She asked after slurping down half a glass of milk.

“For one thing, you'll miss school for two weeks.” He answered readily.

That gave her pause. Felicity loved her new school. She did not have any friends yet but, unlike her old school in Las Vegas, she wasn't teased or yelled at or bored. The teachers were all nice to her and didn't mind when she interrupted class to ask questions. She was also allowed to use the class computer as soon as she finished her workbook.

“Two weeks is,” her brows furrowed as she worked the problem in her head. “Two seven days. That's fourteen days with two Sundays and two Saturdays.”

He nodded, impressed with her math skills.

“That's ten days!” She looked horrified. “I don't want to miss ten days of school!”

“Yes, quite.” Alfred suppressed a smile, knowing that he had won this particular battle.

“Fine,” she sighed. “You go to England and I go to school. But you have to give me a map so I won't get lost.”

“A map?”

“To school.” She replied patiently. “You're in England so you can't take me and I can't drive because I don't know how. Yet.” She gave him a look as if she was fully expecting him to teach her right then and there. “So I have to walk to school.”

“Well, not quite.”

Her blue eyes widened when she realized who was to drive her to school for ten days. “Not Master Bruce!” She gasped.

Alfred sighed.

After months of just him and Felicity in Wayne Manor, young Master Bruce finally arrived from his European sojourn two weeks ago (after a royal edict from Lucius Fox).

Unfortunately, young Master Bruce acted as if the young child was not there (except to occasionally swerve out of the way whenever she barrelled into his path).

Felicity, for her part, was not enamored with the teen who she pronounced as too serious and too quiet. She was not impressed with his solemnity and had resorted to calling him—

“Not Master Poopy Face!” Her face contorted into what she approximated as Bruce's serious expression.

“Felicity Smoak!” Alfred chastised.

“Sorry.” She pouted.

He crouched so that they could see eye-to-eye, to make her realize how serious he was. “The Pennyworths have long been in service to the Wayne Family. And as a Pennyworth, it is my legacy to help young Master Bruce, who is the last Wayne. But I'm going to England for two weeks and Master Bruce would have no one to take care of him.”

Felicity Smoak, who talked a mile a minute, who had an opinion on everything and everything, and who did not hesitate on sharing said opinion, surprisingly did not have any reply to that.

“May I ask for a favor?” He began.

Suspecting what the favor was, Felicity's head fell so low it almost hit the plate of cookies in front of her.

“During the two weeks that I'm away,” he continued, trying hard not to laugh. He must admit he had never been this amused in a while.

This time, her head did hit the kitchen table with a soft thud, miraculously missing the plateful of cookies.

“May I ask you to take care of young Master Bruce for me?” Without waiting for an answer, Alfred stood up and opened the oven. The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted into the kitchen.

Then, he heard a small groan, which was a victory because it was not an outright refusal.

“As practice,” he suppressed as smile even as he donned a pair of mitts. “Could you deliver a plate of biscuits and a glass of milk to Master Bruce in the library?”

Again, there was no reply, but a small hand lifted up to accept the tray of snacks.

“No, no,” he chastised. “Two hands. And standing up would help.”

With her head still laying low, Felicity slowly stood up and held out both hands. After accepting the tray, she walked to the library with her cargo balancing  precariously in her hands.

“Master Poopy Face,” Alfred sniffed when he was sure that Felicity was out of earshot. “Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

_Sometime in 2002_

In Oliver Queen's defense, he lived a sheltered life.

Not sheltered from the vices of humanity like sex and alcohol and recreational drugs. No, those he was exposed to from an early age and he had enjoyed them, occasionally to extreme excesses.

Instead, he was sheltered from the realities of life. In his seventeen years of life, he had never wanted for anything that was not immediately given to him; he had never felt hunger pangs that could not be filled; he had never suffered loss or heartbreak; he had never been neglected or abused or cowed.

(This was not an excuse but an explanation. He had been an only child, the heir to a multi-billion dollar business, and was terribly indulged by his absent but overcompensating father and overprotective mother.)

Because of these, Oliver Queen lacked emphathy.

That was why when he saw Bruce Wayne at the Gotham Policemen Ball, Oliver saw only a teenager who was about his size and height and who was in control of his fortune (unlike Oliver who was still waiting for his trust fund to be released). He did not see the pain lurking beneath the eyes of Gotham's favorite son. He did not see a person whose boyhood was tragically cut short.

Oliver especially did not see (which he will later regret) the adorable girl in the fussy pink dress who was holding on to Bruce's hand like it was her lifeline.

No, he did not see the scared, lonely boy beneath the facade. He only saw the teenager whose return to the country had ousted him from the top spot of a popular teen magazine's _Twenty Under Twenty_ list.

“So, that's Bruce Wayne,” Oliver's best friend, Tommy Merlyn, nodded towards the direction of the man the two of them have travelled two thousand miles for. “I'm not impressed.”

With Wayne travelling around the world and away from the prying eyes of the media, Oliver and Tommy enjoyed their unchallenged status as the country's top two billionaire teen bachelors (often switching off as numbers one and two, sometimes sharing the spot because of their status as best friends).

In a state of drunken stupor, after a bunch of pretty girls teased Oliver and Tommy for having been ousted as the most eligible male teens, they thought it was a great idea to see what the fuss was all about.

For the last couple of days, Queen and Merlyn scoured the internet and contacted their friends from the press. They found out that Wayne's first public appearance was to be at the Gotham Policemen Ball. The two men from Starling City threw around their last names and their allowances (and pestered their fathers' executive assistants) to obtain last-minute tickets to the ball and to be able to take the Queen Consolidated jet to Gotham City.

Tommy and Oliver met each other's eyes. After two days of planning, scheming, and bribing, exerting more effort than they have exerted in their lives, they were finally in Gotham, they were in the ball, and they're now they're within the range of Bruce Wayne.

Now what?

 

* * *

 

 Never let it be said that Oliver Queen was a person who let an opportunity pass by.

Oh, no. Oliver Queen was an opportunist.

Despite all their efforts, they could not get within five feet of Bruce Wayne. Gotham's favorite son was surrounded not only by women but also by adults who were morbidly curious about the boy who had, for the longest time, hid himself from the public eye.

Oliver and Tommy had split up earlier, in some twisted strategy of divide and conquer. But in a very Oliver Queen-like fashion, he had lost interest in their target as soon he encountered the first roadblock, in the form of Wayne's close-in security.

His attention, instead, was captivated by the beautiful women in attendance.

“I have a little sister,” Oliver Queen stated loudly to a group of women whom he overheard gushing about cute Bruce was, holding the hand of a young girl. “A real one not a borrowed one. Who's prettier, more adorable, and who has all her teeth.”

The women, all few years older than Oliver, turned to him as one.

“Hi, I'm Oliver Queen.” He gave them the smile that had graced the walls of teenagers in Starling City.

“Queen? Any relation to the Queens of Queen Consolidated?” One of the prettier woman in the group asked with a flirtatious giggle.

“Yes.” He replied. “It's my family's corporation. I'm actually VP of Operations.”

“No, you're not.” A tiny head framed by thick, shiny, dark hair, popped up between Oliver and the women. “You're too young to be a VP. You look like you're still in high school.”

Oliver sputtered for a minute before coming out with the witty riposte, “I am not!”

Upon learning of Oliver's age, the women lost interest in him and began leaving.

"Yes, you are." She told him. "So, where's your little sister? Is she here? Can I go play with her?"

“Who are you?” Oliver frowned down at the girl who had essentially cockblocked him.

“Hi, Mr. Oliver Queen.” She smiled at him winningly, her blue eyes enlarged by her coke-bottle glasses. “I'm Felicity Smoak.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that in this fic, Felicity is ten years younger than Oliver Queen and twelve years younger than Bruce Wayne. That may change to suit my purposes later.


	3. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2003, eight-year old Felicity experienced her first heartbreak.
> 
> In 2004, twenty-one year old Bruce Wayne made the monumental decision to end his nomadic lifestyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little light on the Olicity and on Oliver, but heavy on the Bruce Wayne. Hope this is to everyone's liking!

_Sometime in 2003_

“Why does God hate me?”

There are a few things that life could throw at Bruce Wayne that he would not be able to field, but apparently, an existential eight-year old was one of them.

Not for the first time that day, Bruce regretted his offer to pick up Alfred Pennyworth's charge, but the impulse emanated from feelings of guilt. Alfred was running late overseeing the preparations for a formal event at Wayne Manor (the first after so many, many years to celebrate Bruce's designation as Chief Communications Officer of Wayne Enterprises, a position created just for him after he informed Lucius Fox that he had intended to stay in Gotham for good). Bruce had felt that driving Felicity home from school was the least he could do.

Unfortunately, Felicity was not at the front gate when he arrived. When asked, the teaching aide admitted that she had no idea where the girl was. A quick survey of the kids still waiting for their rides home revealed the last time someone saw her was right after the last class of the day had been dismissed.

Not wanting to get Felicity in trouble, Bruce volunteered to look for her himself. The teaching aide, obviously having plans after school that did not involve looking for wayward charges, gratefully agreed.

Fifteen minutes of frantic searching later, Bruce finally found Felicity at the school playground, sitting on one of the swings.

Whatever relief Bruce felt at finally finding his charge vanished at the first words out of her mouth.

How did he, a man who was not even sure (no, who was convinced) that god did not exist, answer a question like that to a eight-year old?

(But even before she uttered her question, telltale tear tracks were on Felicity's cheeks clued Bruce in that not everything was okay in Felicity-Land.)

“What happened?” He chose to ignore her question, gingerly lowering himself to the swing beside Felicity's. It was smaller and lower than he was comfortable with; he was afraid that he'd break the set if he placed his full weight on the seat. “Did you get in a fight with someone?”

She did not answer at first. With the tips of her toes that barely touched the ground, Felicity moved the swing back and forth.

“Felicity?” He pressed.

“I did something that I wasn't supposed to do.” She finally admitted.

“What was it?” He asked.

To his horror, instead of giving him an answer, Felicity folded herself into two and she began crying as if her world was ending. Her shoulders heaved with her sorrow.

Bruce hesitated a moment before he disembarked from the swing and scooped Felicity into his arms. Automatically, the girl's arms and legs went around him, wrapping herself around Bruce like not even the jaws of death could pry her away from him.

Bruce awkwardly patted Felicity's back in an attempt to give relief.

Between sobs, Felicity was able to relate that yesterday, right after Alfred dropped her off, she saw a stray dog slowly limping in front of the school. Felicity, being Felicity, immediately befriended it and somehow managed to sneak it in the school grounds and into the gym. She fed it her peanut butter sandwiches during lunch time. She returned today at lunch time to do the same but it was unable to eat much. After classes, when she came to say goodbye, she discovered that her new friend had already passed away.

“Sometimes bad things just happen, Felicity.” Bruce told her. “That's among the most important things one must learn in life.”

Felicity leaned back to look at Bruce's face. She wiped her nose against Bruce's shirt before asking him, “What do you mean?”

Bruce suppressed a grimace, both at the mucous secretion on his very expensive designer shirt and at the topic of conversation, wondering if it was proper for an eight-year old.

“Life's not fair,” he finally told her. “Sometimes things just happen whether we deserve it or not.”

Thankfully, the waterworks seemed to have stopped as Felicity's sharp mind turned over his statements.

“So,” she bit her lip. “You're saying that God doesn't hate me?”

“I don't think so.”

“Okay,” with a tired sigh, Felicity tucked her face against his neck.

Bruce thought he was now safe from the conversational land mine he had found himself in.

And then, Felicity dropped her bomb. “Will you help me bury Spike?”

“Spike?”

“My dog.” This time, the tone was familiar, the very same tone Alfred often used against him: indulgent with just the right amount of exasperation. “Weren't you even listening to me?”

There was no way he would put the carcass of a dead animal into his sports car as they ride around Gotham looking for a place to bury it in.

When faced with Felicity's pleading eyes, unfortunately, Bruce found himself saying, “I know just the place to bury Spike.”

That was how, hours before a big party at Wayne Manor, Bruce found himself burying the remains of a smelly, mangy stray dog near the final resting places of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

And that was the end of the matter, as far as Bruce thought. Until a week later, when he impulsively brought home an energetic black puppy with sharp teeth and boundless energy.

 

* * *

 

_Sometime in 2004_

“Are you sure this is wise, Master Bruce?”

“I don't know if it's wise,” Bruce finally admitted. “But for the past twelve years, I have thought of little else.”

Truth be told, Bruce was beyond thinking if what he was doing was wise. He left Gotham when he was fourteen and travelled the world, in search of knowledge, of people to teach him anything and everything. He had honed his body, he had sharpened his mind. He had chased men and women to teach him all the skills he thought he would need, and even those that he would not.

He was going to do this, or his life _and theirs_ would all be for naught.

Alfred walked further into the cavern which was filled with haphazardly placed exercise equipment and various pieces of electronics. The place was spacious, able to accommodate everything that Bruce would need in his quest, however insane it might be. But it was also dark and empty. It was not a place for a man with a soul devastated with loss and heartbreak.

“That was you last night, wasn't it?” Alfred asked him, pausing to inspect an item or two. “The one on the news, the monster of Gotham those hooligans said attacked them and stopped them from assaulting that sweet old lady? And last week, there was a news about a drug deal gone bad where the buyer was crying about a giant bat. That was you, too?”

His reply was a short nod.

“I suppose since you've made up your mind to do this,” Alfred stated slowly. “There is nothing that I could say that would change your mind.”

Bruce did not say anything.

“Then, there is nothing left to say, Master Bruce.” Alfred sniffed. “Except to say, I'm proud of you."

Startled, grateful blue eyes turned to Alfred.

"And if your parents are here today, I know they will be proud of you, too."

It took everything in Bruce not to burst out in tears.

“I must admit your methods are a tad unorthodox,” Alfred continued. “But your heart is in the right place. You wanted Gotham to flourish and for its people to be safe. That was what your parents wanted, too.”

Bruce did not know how much he wanted, no, needed, the elder man's approval until that moment.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it), the moment was broken by an excited yip and the sound of paws descending concrete stairs.

“Ace?” Alfred turned around to meet the excited one-year old Doberman, still too big for its paws, prancing around the cave, showing everyone how wonderful he was.

If Ace was there, that can only mean—

“What are you doing here?” Felicity appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her head pivoting as she tried to take on everything before her. “Wow! We're actually underneath Wayne Manor? I couldn't estimate how many floors the elevator descended. How did you guys put in the elevator without anyone noticing, anyway? Is this a real life cave? How did you discover it? And what are all these things for?”

Bruce watched in trepidation as Felicity's eyes grew rounder and rounder as she took in the room. 

Fortunately, before the nine-year old was distracted before she could connect the vigilante-shaped dots.

“Is that a computer?” She screeched at the device that occupied an entire wall of the cave. “I've never seen a monitor that huge in real life before! How fast can it process data? Do you have the Internet here?”

Soon enough, Felicity had somehow unscrewed the metal box that housed the CPU and crawled inside its belly, unmindful of her pretty dress. She giggled as Ace wiggled beside her while she was crossing wires and removing parts.

Felicity Smoak was in heaven.

“Felicity,” Alfred's accent always became more pronounced when he was vexed. Always. “How did you find us here?”

“Well, I looked for you everywhere but you were gone! And Ace was whining at the grandfather's clock.” Came her distracted answer from the belly of the electronics. “I watched the _The Gray Ghost_ , too, you know. I know all about grandfather clocks and secret entrances.”

The two men were speechless.

“How did you plan on keeping this a secret from Little Miss _I Hate Mysteries_?” Alfred asked, a single eyebrow raised.

“She's a variable that I failed to take into consideration.” Bruce admitted.

“You now have Internet!” The little lady in question called out. “And it took me a while but I figured out how to get TV reception here, too.”

As proof of her pronouncement, the giant monitor came into life. _“_ _Breaking news. Queen Consolidated Heir Oliver Queen was arrested earlier today for peeing on a cop._ _”_

“Did she say Oliver Queen?”

It was like a magic word. The moment Oliver Queen's name was uttered by the news anchor, Felicity slid out from underneath the CPU and focused on the television.

Alfred sighed in despair. His baby's first crush and it's Oliver Queen. Of all the good boys in Gotham, she chose Starling's most popular degenerate to crush on, just because he was nice to her all those years ago.

(Alfred also suspected, but could never prove, that Felicity ran one of those Internet pages dedicated on the young Queen.)

“Well, at least whatever happens,” Alfred sniffed at Bruce, knowing that with Oliver Queen on the television, there was no way they could steal Felicity's attention away. “I doubt you could turn out worse than Mister Queen. Peeing on policemen, my word.”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

“I'll leave you two to your activities, then.” Alfred sighed. “Just try to keep her out of trouble.”

“No.” Bruce shook his head emphatically, showing more emotion than he did the past few years. “Take her with you, Alfred! She will not be involved in this.”

“Then, all I ask is for you to be the one to tell her that.” Alfred brushed off his hand, just as he brushed the matter off himself. “I wish you luck in that endeavor.” He made his way back up to Wayne Manor.

“Alfred, come back!” Bruce called out in vain. “Alfred, don't leave her here. Alfred!”

 

* * *

 

 


	4. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2005, ten-year old Felicity Smoak met twelve-year old Barbara Gordon and eight-year old Dick Grayson. It was the beginning of an epic friendship.
> 
> In 2006, eleven-year old Felicity once again crossed paths with Oliver Queen, now twenty-one years old, and fell a little out of love.

_Sometime in 2005 _

The house, for once, was quiet.

(Too quiet.)

Bruce Wayne settled himself at the kitchen table, looking forward to having breakfast in peace. Today, he would be able to finish reading the newspaper without being peppered with questions, without being distracted with inappropriately-timed giggles, without being disturbed by high-pitched, fast-paced chatter.

All thanks to one Babs Gordon who invited Felicity Smoak to the latter's first ever sleepover.

For a ten-year old girl stuck in classes with appropriately-aged high school students, making friends was not easy. (The decision to allow Felicity academic acceleration was not made lightly. In fact, Alfred initially refused outright when Felicity's former teachers brought up the matter. He wanted Felicity to have as much normalcy as he could give her. However, in the end, Alfred only wanted what was best for his little girl.)

As a result, while Felicity was very happy with being challenged mentally, she was quite lonely.

That was why Babs Gordon was a godsend.

The two girls met at the Gotham Library a few months ago, when they simultaneously reached for the same Nancy Drew hardbound novel, giggled, and then bonded with their mutual love for computers, television shows, and books. Felicity couldn't stop talking about her new friend ever since.

Felicity begged and bargained to be allowed to sleep at her new friend's house (otherwise, she claimed, she would be labelled as weird and would forever be alone). Alfred gave his grudging permission (there may be some tears involved, tears which were not exclusively Felicity's, and only after Bruce vetted Babs' family. Her father being a police detective might have allayed some of the elder man's fears.

In recapitulation, Bruce had Babs Gordon to thank for this morning's peace and quiet.

Five minutes into his coveted alone time, Bruce gave up reading the newspaper after he went over the same line thrice. (And loathe as he was to admit it, his breakfast cereal did not taste the same without Felicity pouring in half of hers in his bowl because, according to her, his breakfast looked sad and boring.)

He came to a realization: Felicity Smoak, ward of one Alfred Pennyworth, was not just an orphaned child who was living in his house because she did not have anywhere else to go. Bruce was not just tolerating her presence because he pitied her. No, she was more than the little girl who had followed Alfred everywhere after her mother died, afraid that he, too, would leave her. Felicity Smoak was a presence who made Wayne Manor feel like a home, instead of a historical building that housed generations of Waynes.

(This made him come to his second, harder, realization: he actually missed her during breakfast. He missed her noise and her chatter and her presence.)

From the other side of the kitchen, Alfred Pennyworth putted about, trying to keep himself busy so he did not have to think about who was missing in their sad little group.

Bruce cleared his throat to catch Alfred's attention.

“Alfred,” the younger man began. “When is Felicity coming home?”

“Detective Gordon said that he'll drop off Felicity on his way to work,” Alfred replied. “I'm expecting her to arrive any minute now.”

As if on cue, Bruce heard a their security system give out a beep, a signal that someone had just opened the electronic gates to the manor. A few minutes later, they heard the vehicle drive up to the front doors before leaving with a honk of the horn.

“I'm back!” Came a cheerful voice moments later. It sounded like someone enjoyed her first night away from home.

There was an excited woof that was Ace demanding for a rubdown from his favorite human in the world.

“We're at the kitchen, Felicity.” Alfred called out.

Felicity skipped (yes, she actually skipped) into the kitchen with the dog trailing behind her. She dropped her backpack at the table before quickly going to Alfred who stooped down to accept his hug and kiss hello.

Thereafter, Felicity walked to where Bruce was sitting and (pretend) reading the newspaper. Ace sat down beside her and concentrated on Bruce, knowing their routine down to a tee.

Then, she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“What?” Bruce finally asked, lowering his newspaper to look at the girl.

The girl just grinned but took advantage of the lack of newspaper barrier to jump up to give Bruce an attack hug.

Bruce harrumphed after Felicity released him. As was usual, he pretended not to appreciate the hug and went back to his paper.

(From the corner of his eyes, Bruce saw Alfred suppress a smile.)

“Did you enjoy your time at the Gordons?” Alfred asked her.

"Yes!" That was all the encouragement she needed to recount what she and Babs did in their sleepover, starting from the moment Alfred drove her to the Gordons.

While chattering, Felicity looked at Bruce's high-fiber, low-sugar breakfast and shook her head. She went to the cabinet, climbed on a stool to reach for the box of her favorite breakfast cereal filled with colorful marshmallows and sugary oats, and proceeded to pour into Bruce's bowl.

“And then,” she finished. “Mr. Gordon drove me here but he didn't have a police car, just a regular car. He did have this cool siren that he could put on top of his car in case of an emergency. I begged for him to use it but Mr. Gordon said that I was not an emergency.”

“Did you thank Mr. Gordon for their hospitality?” Alfred asked.

“Yes.” She hopped up on one foot. “He said that I can sleepover anytime but I told them that you told me that next time, Babs can sleep over here instead.”

“Very good,” Alfred smiled. “Now take your used clothes in the laundry room and your bag to your room.”

“Okay,” she then skipped out of the room with Ace once again trailing after her.

Alfred and Bruce were talking about their plans for the day when they heard Felicity scream.

They were not immediately alarmed. After all, screaming was one of the ways Felicity communicated (the Wayne Manor also had the best alarms money could buy; that and the fact that Ace was with her). She screamed when she was happy; she screamed when she was sad. She screamed when she was excited; she screamed when she was tired. One time, they were awakened with her screaming because her favorite boy band broke up.

Then, they heard footsteps, human and canine alike, moving fast. Felicity, still screaming, ran through the kitchen towards the front doors, Ace barking in excitement beside her, like they were in the middle of a game.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Alfred, telling him without words that this was the butler's problems.

A few seconds later, Felicity rushed back into the kitchen and was running towards the stairs, a baseball bat in her grip. She was no longer screaming but was instead muttering about gross boys who was taking over her room.

As usual with things involving Felicity, it took Bruce Wayne a while to react.

“My word,” Alfred gasped. “Do you think she found our guest?”

That galvanized Bruce into action. Without a word, he dashed after the girl wielding a baseball bat.

“Felicity!” Alfred yelled out as he, too, moved quickly, quicker than Bruce ever saw him move before. “Do not even think of hitting Master Dick with a baseball bat! Felicity!”

 

* * *

_ Sometime in 2006 _

It was no secret that Oliver Queen loved women.

He liked the way they looked and how they smelled. He loved how smooth their skins were when he ran his hands all over their bodies. He loved the sounds they made when they laugh, and especially those high, breathy sighs they emitted in the throws of orgasm.

While he was partial to slender, smart brunettes, Oliver loved women in all shapes and sizes. He loved them petite and sweet; fierce and shapely; sweet and tiny; bold and sinewy; shy and conservative; wild and energetic. As long as they were of the age of consent, Oliver loved to make love to them.

The only problem was, Oliver was in a committed relationship; and at twenty-one years old, there were a lot of expectations attached to his committed relationship.

One such expectation was that Oliver was not supposed to be making love to other women. Key words being _not supposed to_ ; because he totally made love to other women (he also fucked them, depending on his mood) who were not his significant other even while in said committed relationship, telling himself that it was okay as long as she did not have his ring on her finger.

(Fortunately, he was in a committed relationship with a prelaw student, giving him at least three more years of loving other women.)

Worse, Oliver was not usually discreet in his flings with other women so Laurel, his significant other, always found out about them. They would get into a huge fight where they would say hurtful things to each other that they could not take back. They would take a break from their relationship. A few weeks thereafter, one of them would miss the other and seek reconciliation. Then, they would get back together. Oliver would try to curb his wandering eye for a while before he would meet another woman that he absolutely must make love to, and the cycle began all over again.

Right now, he and Laurel were on the _On Break_ part of their relationship cycle after she found out about his weekend in Paris with McKeena Hall.

And wouldn't you know it, he and his family were invited to the birthday of the one of the royal princes of Dubai.

Oliver Queen had big plans for Dubai. Huge plans.

Plans, unfortunately, have a way of going awry.

Oh, sure, Oliver's expectation that he would be introduced to a long-haired brunette had come to fruition. He just never thought that it would be _this_ brunette that he would be with.

Okay, she was cute despite the braces that were correcting her buckteeth. Her thick glasses actually added personality to her face and he liked the mischievous glint in her eyes.

She was also articulate and wasn't shy to voice out her questions and opinions. In fact, from the moment they met, she had not stopped talking.

She was also all of eleven years old.

Felicity Smoak, she said her name was. She was one of Bruce Wayne's charity cases, the other one being a boy named Dick (former fratboy Oliver actually snickered when he heard the name).

Why Bruce Wayne felt that he had to bring his two charity cases to the party, Oliver had no idea.

Fifteen minutes into the party, Bruce Wayne received a Very Important Message that called him away from the venue. For some reason, Bruce took the boy with him but he left behind the girl without so much as a “Hey, Queen? Can I ask for a favor? Will you look out for Felicity for a few minutes? I just have to go somewhere real quick. I'll be back before you know it.”

In his wildest dreams, Oliver Queen never imagined that those words would be his first exchange with Gotham's most famous son. Nope.

In his mind, their first actual meeting would be more akin to showdowns in the old Western movies he watched when he was younger with his best friend Tommy. After all, both Oliver and Bruce were around the same age. They were both legacies of multi-billion dollar industries. They were both gossip-fodder and perennially included in lists for the most eligible bachelors in the world. (Sure, Tommy was part of the list, too, but he was Oliver's best friend and he didn't count.) 

Wayne's first words to Queen, instead, was to ask the latter to babysit the world's fastest talker.

Yes, Felicity babbled. She talked a lot and she talked fast. She also used words that Oliver encountered only in the list of vocabulary words his tutor threw at him the night before the SATs.

Oliver Queen was already tipsy when Bruce Wayne collared him so Felicity's unintelligible babbling caused a low buzz in his head that he would do anything to stop. So it was technically Wayne's fault when Oliver turned to Felicity to stop her mid-babble with a very loud, “Would you just stop?”

She did stop. Regrettably, so did the people surrounding them.

“No, wait,” Oliver winced when he saw he devastated her with his harsh words. (He remembered how Raisa used to tell him to be careful with his words and the manner he said them because it was not only the physical that could hurt others.) The guilt shot quickly through his heart and he wanted to take back his words. 

Felicity suppressed a sob before she ran out of the room.

“Felicity!” Oliver called out after her. “Felicity!”

To recapitulate, it was Wayne's fault that Oliver Queen was sweating through his tux outside the palace, instead of partying inside. It was Wayne's fault that Oliver felt guilty enough to search for Felicity instead of just leaving her be and enjoying the rest of the party.

He found her in the garden five minutes later, sitting at the fountain and playing with some sort of gaming device in her hand. Thankfully, while she was pouting, she wasn't crying anymore.

He sat down beside her but she did not acknowledge him.

“I'm sorry for being a jerk,” he told her. “I didn't mean it.”

She didn't reply but she did put down her device.

“I don't have any excuse.” He told her. When he still did not get a reply, he tried a different tactic. “When my sister gets mad at me, she gets even.”

Finally, finally, she looked at him. She didn't say anything but he could see in the gleam of her eyes that he got her attention.

“If you want, you could punch me in the face,” he offered, pointing at his jaw. “So we'd be even.”

Her face was very expressive, he noted. He immediately saw that she was taken aback at the suggestion. He also knew that she wanted to punch him but was afraid that she'd get in trouble.

“I wouldn't say anything to anyone, I promise.” He cajoled her. “So you want to punch me? Will that make you feel better?”

To his surprise, Felicity nodded and hopped down from her perch.

“Okay,” he said. He crouched down to face her, his back to the fountain. He wasn't too worried. After all, Felicity is just a slip of a girl half his size. “Do it.”

Felicity smirked. Then, she widened her stance, bent her knees, and threw a punch that Oliver did not see coming.

Yes, he did not see the punch coming, but he felt it down to his bones. The little girl had so much power behind her punch that Oliver lost his balance.

It was true that some things happen in slow motion. Because Oliver Queen felt that he was falling slowly into the water fountain but he could not do anything to stop his descent.

He met his inevitable end: soaking wet inside the water fountain.

(But it was worth it when he saw Felicity smile.)

“You're right,” she told him. “That did made me feel better.”

“Told you.” He grinned. “Are we even now?”

She nodded.

“Help me out?” He asked innocently, extending a hand to her.

“I wasn't born yesterday, you know.” She rolled her eyes. Then, her handheld device beeped. “I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Oliver called out after the quickly departing girl. “Felicity! Where are you going? Don't leave me here wet and alone. At least go grab me a towel! Felicity!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this part as much as I had fun writing it.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2005, Bruce talks to ten-year old Felicity about the arrival of one Dick Grayson in Wayne Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes was a scene that I deleted from the last chapter; takes place after Felicity tried to run after Dick with a baseball bat, thinking that he was a pervy trespasser in her room.
> 
> For imusuallyobsessed, who requested for such a scene :)

_Sometime in 2005_

“Felicity?”

Bruce Wayne found Felicity sitting outside in the sun, a baseball bat scarcely smaller than she was in her hands.

“I didn't know you had a baseball bat.” He found himself telling her, instead of the things he actually had to tell her.

“You told me to try sports to keep active.” She shrugged. “I saw something online about baseball tryouts. It seemed easy enough so I tried out.”

Bruce sat down beside Felicity. He noted absentmindedly how beautiful the gardens of Wayne Manor were, as beautiful as they had been when his mother was still alive. No wonder Felicity loved it there.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“It went.” She shrugged.

Bruce frowned. What does that even mean?

“I didn't get in.” Felicity continued at Bruce's questioning look. “It turned out, my survival instincts are top notch. Every time I see the ball fly towards me, I scream and take cover. Like any rational being would when there's a ball hurtling at them a hundred miles an hour.”

That surprised a chuckle out of Bruce.

“Baseball skills aside,” he cleared his throat. “I am impressed with how you wielded the baseball bat.”

“Yeah but he's dodged them all.” It was like watching a thundercloud descend on her face. “How does he do all those tumbling tricks and stuff? He's better than you are in evasive maneuvers!”

“What?” Bruce scoffed. “He is not better at me!”

“Is too!”

Bruce barely stopped himself from responding, lest their conversation degenerate into one fit for immature children, which, at ten and twenty-two, they no longer were (he hoped).

“About Dick,” he said instead. “Maybe we should have talked about him with you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed like a long-suffering adult. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“Remember the boy I told you about last week? The one who lost his parents in an accident?”

“I remember you going to the circus without me!” Felicity looked offended. “But yes, I remember.” She paused, then it dawned upon her. “That's Dick?”

Bruce nodded.

“Now, I feel worse.” Her head hung down.

“Dick's staying here temporarily, until we locate a relative who would take him in.” He told her.

Felicity appeared to mull over that statement. “So, he's not _my_ replacement?”

“A replacement?” Bruce beat himself over the fact that he was unable to foresee such a reaction from the girl. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Sam said that you and Alfred would rather have a boy as a ward than a girl.” She told him.

“Who's Sam?”

“A popular junior who hates my guts because she said my grades messed up hers whenever teachers grade on a curve.” Felicity replied.

“You know better than to listen to someone who hates your guts, Felicity.” He gently chided her.

Her shoulders drooped even lower.

“And Sam's wrong.” Bruce continued. “I like having you here in the house.”

Hopeful blue eyes turned to him. “Really?”

“Really. I'm not trying to replace you. You're irreplaceable.”

“It's like you and Ace,” Bruce said, desperately wondering how he would explain that there could be more than one child in the house but that did not mean that the first child was not enough. “We were okay in the manor, but wasn't it better when Ace arrived?”

She shrugged. “But I'm me and Ace's a dog.”

“And you're you and Dick's him. You're different and don't, and can't, replace each other.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

“I think so,” she replied seriously. “I think I'm getting another puppy.”

“Felicity!” He all but growled.

“It was worth a try.” She grinned. 

Then, Felicity did something that completely mystified Bruce.

"What are you doing?" He asked as he noted Felicity's outstretched arms.

"Now, we gotta hug."

"Why?"

"'Cause I felt bad and now you're making me feel better."

"No." He told her flatly.

"Yes! It's the rule! My mom said so!" Without giving Bruce a chance to deny her, Felicity jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She laughed. Then, a thought occurred to her that sobered her up completely. “I have to apologize to him, don't I?”

Bruce nodded which made Felicity's shoulder droop once again.

“Might as well get it over with.” Felicity gave out a piercing whistle.

On cue, Ace's huge head popped up from the bushes where he was doing what good dogs do whenever their mistresses pout and ponder about life.

“See you later, Bruce!” Felicity called out as she and Ace ran into the house.

Bruce watched her go in, then leaned back in his chair to just enjoy the scenery.

Donna Smoak and Alfred Pennyworth did a great work in raising Felicity.

He just hoped he would be even half as good as them with Dick Grayson, if the situation called for it.

Four days later, Bruce Wayne deeply regretted convincing Felicity to befriend Dick Grayson when he saw that the two children and the Batmobile were all gone without a trace.

 

* * *

 


	6. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2007, ten-year old Robin petitioned Batman to give him a little more freedom.
> 
> In 2008, thirteen-year old Felicity, who skipped her way into MIT, and Robin investigate the identity of the mysterious Batgirl who appeared in Gotham City.

_ Sometime in 2007_

“The answer is no!”

“Oh, dear.” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as walked into the Batcave (Felicity named the place and it stuck, much to Bruce's chagrin.)

“But Bruce,” Dick whined, his knuckles whitened as he gripped the _eskrima_ sticks in his hands.

“Dick,” Bruce gritted out. “Concentrate!”

Alfred hurried down the Batcave. He wanted to watch Bruce put Dick through his paces. Also, if they were discussing what Alfred thought they were discussing, he wanted to make sure that he would be able to have his say.

He stopped just Dick rushed towards Felicity, who was also gripping her own sticks. The twelve-year old girl easily deflected the attack before launching into a counter of her own that had her ten-year old opponent falling on his butt.

“How can you do that?” Dick asked, bewildered.

Alfred cannot blame the boy. After two years with Master Bruce, Dick was on his way to mastering several combat practices. He had martial arts, weapons, and escapology trainings, in addition to the acrobatics skills passed on to him by his parents.

Felicity on the other hand...

“Cookies!” She screeched the moment she saw Alfred. Her weapons clattered noisily on the ground, immediately forgotten at the promise of snacks.

"Felicity!" Bruce snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you not to drop your weapons?"

Felicity did not keep up with her training as she should have, preferring to read, to play on her computer, to sleep, or to eat. Bruce tried to enforce a strict regimen and training on Felicity, but the girl resisted.

Resultantly, despite having been trained for a shorter period of time, Dick could beat Felicity in everything Bruce could throw at them—everything but sword fights. Place a practice stick or two in her hands and she became a mean fighting machine.

“How do I do what?” She asked Dick around a mouth filled with partially masticated cookies.

“Felicity!” Alfred was aghast. “Do not talk with your mouth full.”

“Beat me at sword fight.” Dick replied.

“Oh, that,” she waved her hand negligently. “I am a Jedi Master.” At Dick's still confused look, she quickly swallowed and elaborated, “I had six summers of lightsaber combat training, then Bruce took over 'cause he's a better swordsman than most of my teachers.”

Alfred smiled proudly. His little girl could do everything she wanted to do, which apparently involved fighting like a Jedi knight.

Bruce Wayne, being Bruce Wayne, prepared for any and all eventualities. Among his preparations was ensuring that Felicity knew how to defend herself if the situation called for it, as it would be the height of irresponsibility otherwise.

Felicity, unfortunately for Bruce, was Felicity. She did not do anything she did not want to do; and she definitely did not want, or appreciate, Bruce's efforts to train her. The two were locked in a battle of wills, until Bruce figured out that Felicity would actually train without complaint with a lightsaber in her hand and under a teacher who wasn't him. After her teachers taught her everything they could, Bruce bribed her with a working lightsaber created by Wayne Tech so she agreed to let him take over her training.

Curiosity abated, Dick returned his attention to Bruce. “What are you training me for if you won't let me go into missions on my own?” Dick asked Bruce.

Bruce did not deign a reply, choosing instead to replenish the supplies in his utility belt.

“I can have her as backup if you don't want me alone.” Dick cajoled, pointing at Felicity. “We could give her all the sticks she could carry.”

Bruce's continued silence was answer enough.

“Why can't I be backup?” Felicity's hands flew to her tiny waist. “Is it because the first time you tried to take me in the field, I hummed _Eye of the Tiger_ really loud while on stakeout, alerting the men we were surveilling?”

Bruce gave Felicity a look, not appreciating being reminded of his (first) failed attempt to bring Felicity into the field.

“No?” Felicity frowned. “How about the time you left me in the Batmobile and when you came back, its guts were strewn all over the street because I heard something clunking when it was running and was convinced I could fix it? Oh, how about when I cut off the cape from your suit because I had a nightmare that you got sucked into a jet turbine after watching _The Incredibles_? Or the time when—”

“Felicity,” Dick rolled his eyes. “You're not exactly helping my case.”

"Whoops." She looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Come on, Bruce,” Dick wheedled. “I promise you, I could do this. You trained me yourself. I had been at your side for a year, doing everything you tell me to. I have never done anything that would make you doubt my capabilities.”

“This conversation is over.” It was no longer Bruce who growled, but Batman. It would have ended the discussion because no one wanted to tangle with the Batman, no one but—

“You can't just say no without giving Dick an explanation.” Felicity piped up.

“Yes, I can.” He said. “It's my mission. What I say goes.”

“It's our mission, too,” she told him. “It's our lives, our decision. And you're not the boss of me.”

“But I am the boss of you, Felicity,” Alfred reminded her gently.

“He is the boss of me.” She acknowledged glumly.

“And while it is your life,” Alfred continued. “I have a piece of paper that gives me the legal right to make decisions in your behalf, at least until you turn eighteen.”

Felicity gave Dick a look that said, _she tried_ , and shrugged.

“And I will not allow you to go undercover with Master Dick,” Alfred told her. “We will not risk children even to save other children, especially when an adult is not there to, at the very least, mitigate the risks.”

Felicity made a face. “See, Bruce? It's not that hard to explain why you won't allow Dick to go undercover alone.”

Bruce did not say anything; he simply walked away, back to Wayne Manor.

“It's so unfair!” Dick cried out as he collapsed dramatically over a chair after Bruce left. “I can do this! He knows I can.”

“I think,” she said slowly. “It's not a question of Bruce believing in your skills. He knows you can do it, but let's face it, Alfred's right. We're just kids. Kids who can kick butts and take names, but still kids.”

Alfred pretended not to listen to Felicity and Dick, artfully arranging the plate of cookies on a table for them to eat later.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Dick demanded.

“Think about it,” Felicity told him. “We're not even allowed to take out the Batmobile without adult supervision.” At Alfred's pointed look, she amended, “Or take it out at all, because that would be bad and illegal.”

“So you're saying that Bruce won't let us go in the field alone because we're kids and need adult supervision at all times?” Dick asked. “That it's his way of trying to take care of us.”

“That and Bruce's a control freak.” Felicity shrugged as she dropped on the nearest chair and wheeled herself to the giant computer monitor. “He'll never let us do stuff the cool stuff without him.”

“Now, what are you doing?” Dick asked, moving beside her and peering up at the monitor.

“Trying to find another way,” she told him. “Because there's always another way, right?”

Alfred smiled.

“Oh, god!” Felicity gasped after the computer beeped an incoming alert.

“What is it?” Dick spun his chair closer to Felicity's.

Instead of answering, a few taps on the keyboard sent a video of beautiful blonde onscreen.

“This just in,” the blonde said gravely. “The Queen's Gambit, a yacht owned by Queen Consolidated's C.E.O. Robert Queen, is presumed lost at sea. It was last heard from somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, sending out a distress signal in the middle of a storm. Coast guards are now searching for the passengers and crew onboard, which include Mr. Queen and his son, Oliver Queen.”

 

* * *

_  
Sometime in 2008_

“Overwatch?” Robin called out on his communicator.

There was no answer.

“Overwatch,” Robin sighed deeply in exasperation. “Stop trying to make me call you Overlord. It's never going to happen.”

“Fine,” Felicity's voice crackled on the earpiece Robin was wearing. “See if I help you again.”

Robin smiled. It was as if Felicity was right beside him when, in fact, she was three hundred miles away in Cambridge.

He remembered being terrified that everything would change once Felicity graduated high school at age thirteen. They, along with Bruce and Alfred, were a well-oiled machine at that point. They were a quirky but beloved billionaire family by day, and a team of brave and feared vigilantes at night.

Despite having been accepted in all the universities she applied for, Felicity initially decided to go to Gotham University because of the mission. Bruce refused to let her, knowing that it had been her dream to go to MIT since she was a snot-nosed little girl who had tinkered with the television to find out how it worked.

As a compromise, Bruce bought an entire apartment building in Cambridge and rented out the top floor to Felicity. Bruce and Felicity retrofitted a hidden room in the apartment to be a mini-Batcave so that she would still be updated on the ongoings in Gotham City.

Consequently, despite the distance between them, it was as if Felicity never left.

“Can we just focus on the mission tonight?”

Immediately, Overwatch sobered up, as Robin knew she would. “You're right on track, Robin.”

“There's no sign of movement?” Robin asked.

“The tracking device you planted on her is staying put,” she replied, amidst the background sound of keyboard clacking. “So, I assume she's still there. Batman's ETA is five minutes.”

“Mine, too.” he confirmed.

“Um, Robin?” Felicity was silent for a moment. “If you get there first, go easy on her okay? She's been having a hard time lately.”

It was Robin's turn to be silent as he mulled over his friend's statement. Then, he burst out, “You know who Batgirl is?” He asked incredulously. “How come you didn't tell us?”

“Well,” she hedged. “I know Batman knows her identity. He is, after all, the world's greatest detective. Me, I just had a hunch given the timing of her coming out, her body type, and her skills. But when I saw where she lived, that confirmed my suspicions.”

“Who is it?” He asked.

By then, Felicity didn't need to answer because Robin arrived at the destination given to him.

“Overwatch?” Robin snorted. “This is Commissioner Gordon's house. Don't tell me he's Batgirl. He can't be Batgirl because he's in jail for being the prime suspect in a murder case.”

“Wait for it,” Overwatch muttered to herself. “Wait. For. It.”

“It's Babs!” Robin gasped when the answer finally dawned on him. “Babs is Batgirl!”

 

* * *

 

 


	7. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 2009, fourteen-year old Felicity went back to Gotham, only to once again say goodbye to a disgruntled twelve-year old Dick Grayson.
> 
> In 2010, fifteen-year old Felicity was rescued from abduction by a mysterious man.

_ Sometime in 2009 _

Dick Grayson was blindsided by the attack.

From his peripherals, he noticed a shadowy figure fall from the ceiling but it was too late for him to do anything. He was immediately weighed down by an assailant who had clung against his back. A set of arms wrapped maliciously around his neck while legs went around his waist; his captor's triumphant laugh resonating against his ears.

He became too complacent, lowering his guard because he thought that was safely ensconced inside Wayne Manor. (If Bruce heard about this attack, Dick would never hear the end of it.) 

He twisted desperately in a vain attempt to dislodge his captor. In a last-ditch effort, he ran backwards with the intent to slam his attacker against the wall, but the latter simply kicked the wall to once again launch the two of them to the middle of the room.

“Alright, alright!” He cried out. “You win!”

His attacker held on for a minute longer before he was released.

Felicity jumped down from her perch at Dick's back. His release, however, was only a momentary respite. The minute her feet touched the ground, she jumped back up again, her arms once more encircling Dick's neck, this time, she was hanging against his front like a deranged monkey.

“I missed you!” She cried out as she planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek; it was her prize for catching The Boy Wonder unaware.

“Ew!” Dick halfheartedly protested, more by force of habit that any real objection against Felicity's ministrations. “Cooties.”

“Aren't you too old for cooties?” Felicity rolled her eyes, once again releasing him from her grasp. Nevertheless, she gamely administered a cootie shot on the younger kid. ( _“Circle, circle, Knife, knife, now you've got it all your life!”_ )

It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes.

It was Bruce's edict that no one discourage Felicity's surprise attack hugs (and occasional attack kisses). Not only would fighting her off hurt her feelings; but the sneaky hugs and kisses Felicity doled out on a daily basis was a good exercise in stealth training.

In his first few months as Gotham's mysterious Batman, Bruce learned a lot. Two of them were: 1) no one, not even the threat of the Batman, would be able to make Felicity Smoak do anything that she did not want to do; and 2) he had to be creative when it came to training the girl who claimed that the only burpees she would do were those that came after eating heartily.

Aside from hug attacks and light-saber training, Bruce, by way of trial and error, discovered the Felicity would engage in any training if she deemed it fun. He trained her on self-defense with her faithful Ace by her side. Felicity also had agility training in the form of obstacle course in the swimming pool which Felicity described as just like  _Wipeout_. She would also engage in physical activities as long as they were couched as games, especially if she was pitted against Dick or Babs (Felicity, surprisingly, had competitive streak a mile wide).

Dick was concerned that Felicity's skills would get rusty because of her stay in MIT but, if her ability to take Dick by surprise was any indication, it appeared that she had at least maintained her stealth training.

“Why can't you just say hello like a normal person?” Dick Grayson grumbled. Nevertheless, Felicity's affection, while uninvited, was not unwelcomed. He never would admit it, but he missed Felicity while she was in MIT. He just didn't realize how much until her return to Wayne Manor.

Sure, he heard her voice almost every night, especially when she was rendering invaluable technical assistance _via_ wireless communication devises. He also often saw her face onscreen, as she religiously called home, talking to whoever was in Wayne Manor. But it was not the same as seeing her everyday. He missed her hugs, her kisses, and, lord help him, the way she smelled.

Dick was not the only man in the manor who missed her.

It was a given that Alfred would miss her. After all, the old butler had all but given up his personal life so he could be a father to the girl. Now that Felicity was away from home, Alfred seemed to be at a loss at what to do and he resorted to mother-henning both Dick and Bruce.

Speaking of Bruce, the man became the angry, wounded bear personified after Felicity left. It was not to say that Bruce changed without Felicity; it was more like Felicity served as a buffer between him and the world. She was able to make Bruce's worse moods better by simply being her. Felicity would roll her eyes, crack a joke, or ignore Bruce's grimmer moods, and it was as if others were given permission to roll their eyes or ignore Bruce, too.

“Where's the fun in that?” The girl in question giggled. “So where is everybody?”

Thankfully, Felicity quickly lost interest in her game, heading straight to the kitchen.

“Bruce has a benefit thing.” Dick replied, following Felicity to the kitchen. “And Alfred's driving him. What are you doing here, anyway?”

Felicity stopped in the middle of unwrapping her burger and fries to give Dick a glare.

“Welcome back, Felicity,” she mumbled, lowering her voice in an approximation of Dick's deepening one. Then, her voice was back to its normal range. “Why, thanks, Dick. It's great to see you again after months of being in Cambridge. While I talk to you everyday, it's not quite the same as seeing you in person.”

“You know what I mean.” Dick made a face, stealing a fry. “I thought you were going to Starling City for an internship?”

Ray Palmer, a technological savant and CEO of Palmer Tech, conducted a special lecture in MIT and also took advantage of the opportunity to scout young talents. It came as no surprise that fourteen-year old Felicity caught his attention. Palmer offered Felicity the opportunity to intern at his company. Felicity jumped at the chance to see the inner workings of another technological giant.

“Your healthy, vigilante-approved food is over there,” she told him, slapping his hand away from hers. “And Alfred put his foot down. He said I must first go home before traipsing off to goodness know where.” The last phrase was done in a terrible English accent.

“You're freaking me out with your awful impersonations!” Dick snapped.

Felicity took a huge bite of her burger, once again glaring at Dick.

“And I don't see why you have to go home at all,” Dick continued, all sense of self-preservation gone. “You should go directly to Starling City for all I care.”

Then, Felicity beamed. “Aw, you're going to miss me if I go to Starling,” she cooed, dropping her burger to give Dick a tight hug. “Admit it, you're super lonely without me.”

“Gerr'off!” Dick mumbled, once again trying to escape Felicity's kraken-like arms. “And I'm not going to miss you. Alfred would, and maybe Bruce, but not me. I like you gone.”

“Yes, you are gonna miss me,” she giggled. “I love you, too.” She released him, grabbed her burger, and pranced out of the room. “Can't wait to text Babs that you actually have feelings and is actually warm and squishy inside."

“What? Felicity!” Dick protested, following her. “No! No! No!”

 

* * *

 

_ Sometime in 2010 _

Felicity Smoak was fifteen years old when she was kidnapped for the first time.

Sure, she felt terrified and helpless. Mostly, though, she just heard Bruce in her mind, telling her over and over, _I told you so_.

After all, Bruce Wayne told Felicity Smoak, emphatically and repeatedly, that she would one day regret all the training sessions she had missed, all the practical tests she had weaseled out of, all the lectures she had ignored.

Felicity Smoak hated it when Bruce was right.

Younger Felicity, however, had better things to do that learn what to do in case of abduction. Besides, who would actually kidnap the butler's daughter? She and Alfred weren't rich. They were able to afford private school tuition only because of the generosity of the Wayne foundation and of Bruce Wayne. While she sometimes assisted Batman and Friends in their nightly mission to keep Gotham City safe, she was strictly support only. (Not only did Alfred stoutly refused to grant her permission to go out in the field in missions other than reconnaissance, Bruce refused to take out someone untrained as backup. Besides, he had Robin and Batgirl for that. Still, Felicity knew that no one, not even Batman himself, could fill the unique role she played in their team.) Plus, she doubted anyone could connect her to the Batman because he operated in Gotham while she was in MIT, and now in Starling City.

As such, Felicity was taken by surprise earlier that day (pun intended).

She was minding her own business, on her way to the animal shelter where she volunteered thrice a week after her internship at Palmer Tech. (She had declined Mr. Palmer's offer of internship last year, opting to intern at Queen Consolidated instead after an interview with Walter Steele, who impressed her so much. Of course, her old crush on Oliver Queen did not hurt either.) She absently noted a black van parked in front of the shelter. When she passed it by, the backdoor opened and she was grabbed by the masked men inside.

Unfortunately, she had more pressing concerns than hearing Bruce in her head.

Like how to deal with the situation she found herself in: blindfolded and tied to a chair in the middle of nowhere. (Well, not exactly in the middle of nowhere. She suspected that she was in an abandoned apartment complex because she heard keys scraping and doors opening. They also climbed at least three flights of stairs.)

Was she supposed to stay put and wait for rescue or attempt to escape and hide to safety?

Felicity had high hopes of being rescued. She was positive that her abduction was caught on tape. After all, she had personally installed close circuit cameras in the perimeter of the shelter. She knew someone was bound to notice her missing since she was never late or absent during her shifts. It was just a matter of waiting for her rescuers.

On a negative note, she felt that she was not in Starling City anymore. Not that she had a clock to check the time, having been blindfolded immediately after her abduction, but she felt that they had driven for hours. She had taken note of the twists and turns of their vehicle, and she was certain that they were driving in a relatively straight direction for hours. That told Felicity that they were not driving around in a circuitous direction, but out of the city.

On the positive side, at least they left her alone after carrying her from the car like a sack of potatoes. She did not hear anything from her captors, which she estimated to be about five people, save for an occasional murmur that was too quiet for her to understand. She did note that one of them spoke with a distinct English accent.

She once more attempted to escape the ropes and succeeded in chafing her wrists, grimacing when they started to bleed. She supposed that was a blessing in disguise as her blood served to lubricate her way to freedom.

Minutes later, she had just freed her hands from the rope, biting back a cry of pain, when she heard a quiet thud. She froze and listened keenly, keeping her hands behind her back. There was another sound, like a muffled moan followed by a thud, which sounds repeated, coming closer and closer, until Felicity heard a nearby door squeak open.

Whoever it was that was making a noise, it was now inside the room with her.

Felicity kept herself still.

“Don't be afraid,” a man rasped out. “I'm not here to hurt you.”

Suddenly, Felicity's blindfold was taken off. She blinked furiously to recover her sight.

A man in a hood was crouched in front of her but without her glasses, which she lost along with her purse when she was taken, he was just a giant green blur.

“Are you—” his eyes widened when he saw her. “Felicity?”

Mustering her courage, Felicity quickly grabbed the man's shirt and jerked him forward, then butted his face with her forehead.

He was able to move his head such that she missed hitting his nose but the force she exerted caused him to stumble backwards on the ground.

“Wait!” He held out a hand in a sign of peace. “I'm not here to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” Felicity demanded.

“A friend,” he replied as he slowly stood up under her watchful gaze. “I'm here to rescue you, but it appears you're almost halfway to rescuing yourself.”

“If you're here to rescue me,” she told him suspiciously. “Then how come you know who and where I am? And on that note, where am I?”

“You're in Coast City,” he replied. “I just saw five men carry a girl into an abandoned apartment, so I decided to take a look. I didn't know it was you until I got close. And if I wanted to hurt you, I would have already done it.”

“How come you know my name? Do we know each other?” Felicity asked. Was he one of Batman's vigilante friends?

“I knew you from another life,” the man said slowly. “You're safe now. Your kidnappers are currently incapacitated. Here.” He held out something to her.

“I can't see without glasses,” she admitted. “What is it?”

There was something about him that made her want to trust him. Or it might be her desperation to get away.

“A knife.” He slowly moved closer to Felicity. “I'll cut off the ropes around your ankles now. Don't kick me when you're free.”

She couldn't kick him if she wanted to. Instead, she cried out in pain as feelings returned to her legs.

“Easy, easy,” her rescuer muttered as he helped her from the chair, lowering her to the ground to make her more comfortable.

She was close enough to look the man's face under the hood. Without her glasses she still could not see his face in detail but, “You seem familiar. Who are you? And what is that on your back?”

Surprised, the man moved backwards, but not quickly enough as Felicity had already reached behind him.

She took out a long stick from what seemed to be a thin backpack. “Is this an arrow? Are you from the Renaissance Faire?”

“Instead of giving your rescuer lip,” he told her. “Maybe you want to call for help.”

“Oh, yeah. Do you have a phone I could borrow?”

“No, I don't.”

“Who doesn't have a cellphone in 2010?” She demanded.

“Me,” he replied shortly. “Wait here.” He went out of the room for a few seconds before returning with a cellular phone which he handed to her. “Borrowed it from a guy outside. He's not going to need it anyway.”

“Thanks.”

After making her call to emergency services (and refusing to hold despite the urgent pleas of the operator), she turned back to the man. “Thank you,” she told him fervently.

“It's not like you needed help. You were already half free when I arrived.”

“But it is appreciated,” she told him. “Plus, escaping from the ropes was the extent of my grand plans.”

““I don't want to be here when the police arrives.” He told her. "But I'll be nearby to make sure you're okay.”

Felicity nodded, rubbing her sore and injured wrists.

The man was gone only for a few seconds, just long enough to ensure that he was truly gone, when Felicity realized she was, once again, no longer alone.

“Are you okay?” The Batman asked the teen, moving from the shadows until he was standing in front of Felicity. 

“Thanks for coming.” She finally let out the tears she had been holding back for so long, relieved that her ordeal was finally over. She launched herself forward, confident that the Batman would catch her. He had, after all, come a long way to save her.

“I've never seen the Batwing fly so fast.” Robin told her, also appearing as if conjured from midair, in an attempt at levity. “I almost lost my lunch.”

Felicity pulled back and gave him a watery smile.

“I'm glad you're okay, squirt.” Robin told her, using the nickname he had given her after his growth spurt made him tower over her. “And you can thank Babs. She was able to hack into the police cameras of two cities.”

Felicity made a mental note to thank her friend later. “You saw who also came to my rescue?”

“Yes.” Batman replied. “I'll thank him personally later.”

“He didn't even leave any opponents for us to fight.” Robin complained. “I was looking forward to clobberin' them, too.”

“Why was I taken in the first place?” Felicity asked tenuously. “Is it because of,” she motioned vaguely towards Batman.

“No,” the Batman replied. “It was actually Alfred's old colleagues from another life who took you in an attempt blackmail him into revealing old codes.”

“Codes?” Robin asked in confusion. “About what? Butler trade secrets?”

“Nuclear launch codes.”

“Nuclear launch codes?” Robin goggled. “Man, being a butler is more exciting than I thought.”

“Let's go, Robin.” Batman called out, ignoring Robin's remark. “The police are coming for Miss Smoak.”

As they left, Felicity wiped her tears, wondering about the man in the green hood. Because, as far-fetched as it was, she had a suspicion about who he was. After all, his poster hung prominently on her bedroom wall for a few months when she was younger. Okay, a year. Maybe two.

It was another mystery for her to solve, and god, she hated mysteries.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late because real life intruded but still good, yeah? :)


	8. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 2011. Felicity, at age sixteen, is back at Gotham with eighteen-year old Babs and fourteen-year old Dick. Batman gave them instructions to man the Batcave while he met with an asset, but the girls' attention were diverted to more important things.

_ Sometime in 2011 _

If one looked only on the surface, one could not help but conclude that Felicity Smoak led a charmed life.

Felicity, at age sixteen, was on the cusp of becoming a beautiful woman. She was also very, very smart. She lived in a huge mansion that was often featured in photoshoots and television specials. She was adored and spoiled rotten by three men, one of whom was a billionaire who literally handed her everything that she needed and wanted even before she even realized that needed or wanted them.

Yes, on the surface, Felicity Smoak was one lucky girl.

When one looked deeper, however, one would realize that Felicity Smoak's perfect life was only surface deep.

While Felicity was on the verge of becoming a beauty, she was not quite there yet. Her pretty blue eyes were often obscured by her thick eyeglasses. She was clueless on what to do with her lion-mane of a hair so she she flat ironed it within an inch of its life and later dyed it jet black. She learned how to apply makeup from online beauty vloggers where she concluded (incorrectly) that the more she plied on, the prettier she would be. Her body was still developing so she appeared gawky and almost plain when standing next to her mostly adult peers. And don't get her started on her braces (which, thank goodness, would be removed in a couple of months).

She was smart, yes. Her big brain, however, often resulted to her being the youngest person in a room whose interests and pursuits were far different from hers. She tried to overcompensate by talking too much and too fast. As a result, she would often be described as annoying.

While she lived in a huge mansion with a billionaire, she was the ward of the butler. She was not rich even if she went to the most exclusive of private schools. She was neither poor nor middle class because of the generosity of Bruce Wayne. Felicity, instead, existed in the in between.

The three men who doted on her were all overprotective throwbacks, so much so that Felicity's social life dwindled into nothingness. (Case in point, at age sixteen, Felicity had not yet gone out on a date.)

Worst, Felicity Smoak lost her family at a young age. She was fortunate that she was adopted into a family that loved and cherished her, yes, but she still suffered from having grown up without her mother.

(Not that Felicity's complaining; the girl was a trooper and was grateful for the men that gave her their world after she lost hers.)

Fortunately for Felicity Smoak, she also had one Barbara Gordon on her side.

Babs was two years older and, in Felicity's opinion, infinitely wiser than Felicity. Babs had taken Felicity in hand and taught her everything she knew. It was Babs (and a mortified Alfred) who took Felicity shopping for her first bra. Felicity immediately called Babs when she got her first period. It was Babs who accompanied Felicity whenever the latter needed to dress up.

It was Babs Felicity called when she was finally asked out. (Felicity was a wreck hours before her big date. Her mother was not there to reassure her; the three men in her life were no help, simply telling her that if the boy she was going out with did not like her without makeup on, then he was no good.)

Yes, Felicity Smoak led a charmed life, which became even more charmed with Barbara Gordon in it.

“Ta-dah!” Babs declared with a flourish as she spun the chair Felicity was on to face the mirror.

“I'm not sure this is me.” She told Babs slowly.

It was unfortunate that the university separated the previously inseparable Babs and Felicity. Without Babs' guidance, Felicity discarded her preference for colorful dresses and gravitated towards dark clothing: black tank top, dark jeans, and worn out combat boots colored—you guessed it—black. 

Even in her choice of makeup, Felicity tended towards the darker colors. But today, under Bab's magic hands, gone were the dark eyeshadow and heavy foundation on Felicity's face, replaced by a makeup so subtle that it looked as if she was not wearing any. Her dark lipstick was also replaced with a shade of bright fuchsia. 

“I'm sure. Look at you.” Babs told her. “And it would go well with your new salmon dress. Dick, a little help here?”

Dick, who was poised to disembark from the uneven bars, miscalculated his landing, crashing and burning on the crash mats. “Don't involve me in any of this!” He groaned out. Salmon, in his opinion, was something he could eat, not wear.

Not for the first time since he arrived at Wayne Manor, Dick wondered why they needed to involve him in girly stuff. Wasn't it enough that he and Alfred almost broke their backs trying to carry the vanity down to the Batcave while the girls went out shopping? Wasn't it enough that the girls kept on giggling and putting on makeup instead of manning the comms like Batman instructed them to? And why on earth did they keep asking for his opinion when they would just ignore it?

“Trust me, Felicity." Babs assured her. "Have I ever led you wrong?” 

"Well, there was that time when you convinced Felicity that the two of you could take down Ivy and Harley on your own." Dick interjected. “But on the bright side, if we ever need to find Felicity in the dark, her lipstick would serve as a shining beacon.”

“Who asked you?” Babs demanded.

"You just did!" Dick all but shouted. “I don't know why I bother.”

“Your lipstick looks perfect.” Babs assured Felicity who had a terrified look on her face. “I think you look beautiful.”

“You do.” Dick agreed, then grimaced upon realizing that he called Felicity pretty.

Felicity beamed and it was like sunlight dawning on the dark Batcave.

“Someone who smiles like that,” Babs told her slowly. “Shouldn't hide behind Death.”

“What death?” Dick asked, alarmed. “What are we talking about? And speaking of things I don't understand, Felicity met Superman and all you two talk about is her date with the Japanese Toyman!”

“You know how rare it is for me to meet guys my own age who speaks my own language.” Felicity rolled her eyes.

“You speak Japanese?” Dick asked, once again confused. “Since when?”

“Boys.” This time, it was Babs who rolled her eyes. “Always clueless.”

“We bonded while we worked on building a _mecha_ for Batman and Superman.” Felicity told him, sighing in remembrance.

"Falling in love while trying to save the world from getting destroyed by a giant kryptonite." Babs sighed. "How romantic."

“And another thing I don't understand,” Dick added.

“Another thing that Dick doesn't understand,” Babs shook her head. “What surprise.”

“Is why are you so nervous about this date, anyway?” He continued. “It's just over video chat. You don't even have to wear pants.”

And that, Babs thought, was the only reason Alfred and Bruce allowed Felicity _to go out on a date._ While Felicity was in Gotham, her date was a million miles away in Japan.

“You don't wear pants when you videochat?” Felicity asked, disgust written all over her face. “I'm never going to call you from MIT ever again.”

“You'll never understand because you have no romance in your soul.” Babs told Dick dismissively before turning back to her friend. “Felicity, how do you feel about blonde hair?”

Felicity's feelings about blonde hair will forever remain a mystery because at that very moment, the computer chirped.

Felicity immediately rolled her chair over to the monitor.

“What is it?” Dick demanded even as he and Babs suited up.

“Intruder alert.” Felicity told them, her fingers dancing nimbly all over the keyboards. “Someone wandered into the perimeter of the cave.”

A few taps later, the monitors revealed a motorcycle driving through the rough road leading to their hideout. The intruder's face was hidden by the heavily tinted helmet he was wearing.

“It's not a fluke.” Felicity told the duo with her. “Someone is breaching the Batcave. He, or she, will reach us in about seven minutes.”

“You know what to do,” Dick told the two ladies, assuming the leadership role without Batman to lead them (because it was his turn).

Felicity nodded, scooping away her phone and tablet before running to the elevators leading to the Wayne Manor. Her role was to ensure that the intruder would not be able to access the manor and, by extension, Batman's secret life.

Meanwhile, Batgirl and Robin prepared themselves to defend the Batcave.

Thank goodness Batman was an over-controlling, paranoid madman who had protocols for everything.

Minutes later, the intruder roared his way into the cave.

“Mine!” Robin called out, twirling his specialized sticks as he took a flying leap in an attempt to kick the intruder on the chest.

The intruder thwarted the boy's attempt, grabbing the latter's leg and using his hold to throw Robin against the wall, all without even disembarking from his motorcycle.

“My turn.” Batgirl declared as she cartwheeled towards the intruder to place more force into her kicks and punches.

The intruder discarded his motorcycle before effortlessly blocking Batgirl's attacks. In a couple more moves, the tables turned with Batgirl defending instead of attacking. A low kick from the intruder knocked Batgirl down, leaving her dazed and confused.

Robin shook himself off and ran towards the intruder with his sticks at the ready. The intruder swatted him like he was nothing but a fly.

Batgirl threw a couple of _batarangs_ at the intruder, but he nimbly dodged one and grabbed the other in his hand. In retaliation, the intruder threw the _batarang_ at Batgirl, forcing her to jump behind a formation of rocks.

The intruder reached down and took out two guns, one for each young vigilante.

A warning growl stopped the intruder before he could aim the guns. 

The sound of scrambling paws heralded the arrival of a furious Ace who advanced threateningly towards the gun-toting intruder.

“Ace!” Robin cried out. “No!”

His command, however was too late.

Ace jumped the intruder and tried to take a huge chunk out of the intruder's flesh; but the intruder, despite his bulk, was quick and agile. He dodged the dog's attack even when Robin and Batgirl joined the fray.

The intruder only stopped when he felt the muzzle of a gun against the back of his head.

“Stop.” Overwatch, voice scrambled, ordered from behind the intruder.

By then, the intruder had his guns trained on Batgirl and Robin, with Ace standing between them, growling threateningly. 

“Overwatch!” Robin growled. “You're not supposed to be here.”

“I can feel your hand shaking.” The intruder's voice was a low rumble, as if it had been ill used. The words were directed at Overwatch but his eyes never left Batgirl and Robin. “Do you have the grit to shoot a man from behind at pointblank range?”

Then, there was the unmistakable sound of a shotgun cocking but it didn't come from behind the intruder.

“If Overwatch cannot,” Alfred, whose face was concealed by shadows, declared, a shotgun in his hands. “I certainly can. Drop your weapons.”

“STOP!”

“Batman!” Robin and Batgirl cried. It was a testament to their state of mind that they did not even realize that Batman had arrived.

“Ace, down.” Batman growled and the canine was quick to obey but not without a protesting whine. “Queen, Alfred, drop your weapons. Overwatch,” he sighed deeply in exasperation. “Unhand your curling iron.”

“Curling iron?” Robin frowned at Overwatch. “You tried to save us with a curling iron?”

“Queen?” Overwatch gasped. “As in—”

The intruder removed his helmet, revealing shorn dark blond hair and a gorgeous, if a bit gaunt, face underneath. It was, indeed, Oliver Queen.

“Queen?” Batgirl demanded at the same time. “Oliver Queen? As in party boy Queen from Starling City Overwatch used to have a crush on? Isn't he dead?”

“I did not have a crush on him.” Felicity muttered, blushing hotly.

“His poster was on your wall.” Robin told her.

“Okay, maybe a little.” Felicity admitted with a glare that promised retribution later. “When I was a baby. But not anymore, okay?” The last was directed at the crush in question.

“Well,” Alfred uncocked the shotgun. “It appears that my services here are not needed at the moment. I shall get back to preparing dinner. You're welcome to join us, Mr. Queen. Come, Ace.”

With a final woof, Ace got up and followed the butler.

“Deserters.” Overwatch mumbled. She walked around until she faced Oliver Queen. “Hi.”

“Overwatch!” Robin hissed. “You're not wearing a mask.”

“It's fine,” Overwatch replied to Robin but her eyes were glued to Oliver Queen. “He won't recognize me. I was eleven when he saw me last. Plus, I'm not wearing my glasses and my hair's not in a ponytail.”

“Your hair's a different color, too.” Queen told her, a rare and involuntary smile on his lips. “Hello, Felicity.”

“Maybe he would recognize me." Felicity winced. "But I swear, the disguise worked for Clark and Kara.”

“Enough.” Batman growled, turning to Batgirl and Robin. “The two of you, when will you learn to fight together?”

“But he—”

“I got it under—”

A glare from Batman ended stopped the two teen's protests. “And you.” He turned to Felicity.

Felicity let out a little _eep_ and tried to hide behind Queen.

“A curling iron?” Batman shook his head.

“I panicked, okay.” She admitted sheepishly. “And it's not like you have spare guns lying around the cave.”

“She almost had me with a curling iron?” Queen asked incredulously but there was unmistakable mirth in his blue eyes.

“And you're careless about your secret identity.” Batman continued but he no longer had Felicity's attention.

“I was right, wasn't I?” Felicity grinned at Oliver. “You're the one who rescued me in Coast City last year, right? Thanks again for that.”

“It all makes sense now.” He couldn't help but smile back, even just a little. “I wondered why Batman tracked me down after your rescue and offered to get me back to Starling.”

“I hate to break the moment,” Robin insinuated himself between Queen and Felicity. “But aren't you supposed to be dead?”

“It's a long story,” Queen replied before walking over to where Batman was, standing in front of their giant monitor.

Batman pulled down his cowl.

“Batman!” Robin exclaimed. “Secret identity!”

Unsurprisingly, everyone ignored him.

“You said that the Bratva is in Gotham?” Batman looked up at the screen which showed a map of Gotham.

Batgirl and Robin snapped into attention.

“I had to break ranks.” Queen replied grimly. “They're sending in a shipment of young girls from overseas that's supposed to arrive today here in Gotham. I don't know any more because I'm still pretty low on the totem pole. I just know that we have to stop them.”

“Overwatch.” Batman commanded.

“On it.” Felicity dropped her butt on her favorite chair and wheeled herself to the monitor, between the two men. “And before anything else, let me just say, I look forward to working with you, Mr. Queen. What? Not the time?”

"What about Okamura-san?" Robin asked Felicity,  _sotto voce._

"Who?" Overwatch sighed, sneaking glances as Mr. Queen even as her fingers never stopped dancing on the keyboard.

"Never mind."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The giant kryptonite threatening to end the world and Toyman building a mecha for BB and SM were lifted from Superman/Batman: Public Enemies.


	9. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2012, Felicity Smoak is in the middle of a Bat!Mission when she receives a call from a certain man in a green hood.

Sometime in 2012

“Hi-chan, let Superman handle the repairs outside.” Felicity called out. “He's the alien who could hold his breath for hours on end.”

Yet another statement that Felicity Smoak never imagined she'd ever utter, her tendency to word vomit notwithstanding.

“But how am I going to test out my gear if you guys don't let me do any of the dangerous fun stuff?” Hiro Okamura complained.

“You can test them later,” Babs Gordon pitched in. “After we get the _Watchtower_ in working order. Time is of the essence.”

“And are you really calling yourself the Toyman?” Dick Grayson interjected, off topic. “Isn't some criminal in National City already calling himself that?”

“Can't change my name now,” Hiro, the Toyman from Japan, replied. “I have patents and trademarks to protect.”

“Boys, focus!” Babs called, but her attention never wavered from the screen in front of her, her fingers dancing over the keyboards furiously.

Felicity slid herself out from underneath the panel of wires she was previously fixing to stare at her friend.

Something happened a couple of months ago while Batman and Batgirl were on patrol (Felicity was at MIT and Dick was studying for his finals); something that scared Babs so much that she stopped living her life and turned all her considerable focus on the mission.

It was not just Babs.

Batman was freaked, too. Not that Bruce Wayne shared his concerns with the team. No, he revealed himself when he demanded that Felicity go home to Gotham; when he commanded her and the rest of the team to prioritize  _Project Watchtower_. Batman was worried to the point that he pulled in Toyman and Superman on the project. Whatever Batman told them convinced them to drop everything in their respective cities to lend their help.

“Babs?” Felicity asked softly. “What is going on?”

Babs's lips tightened. “I'll explain later,” she promised her friend. “Right now, we should focus on getting the _Watchtower_ in good working order.”

Felicity's eyes met Dick's and they shared a worried look. Felicity opened her mouth to press Babs further but Dick shook his head to stop her.

The _Watchtower_ was an unmanned space-station orbiting around the earth that was designed to house and feed hundreds of people. In designing the specs, Felicity and Bruce's intention was to determine the feasibility of humanity surviving in space. 

Bruce made a few modifications to the design, among which was weaponizing the _Watchtower_. The space-station should have been strictly civilian, not a para-military instrument. When pressed, however, Batman stonewalled Felicity, refusing to explain his decision in the change in the _Watchtower_ 's purpose.

Babs, unfortunately, was the same.

Felicity and Dick, confused and not just a little alarmed, still followed orders not just because of their training but also because they trusted their partners.

Felicity made a face at Dick, intending to ignore his signal to butt out. Before she could say anything, her phone rang. Since her phone was hooked up to the _Watchtower_ 's communication systems, the caller's photo flashed on one of the giant monitors.

“Oh, Felicity,” Dick singsonged. “It's Oliver Queen, the man of your dreams.”

“Shut up!” Felicity crawled out from underneath the CPUs. She dropped the welding gun and kicked it away. Before answering the call, she desperately tried to smooth down the wild hair that was trying to escape from the ponytail. She typed on the computer to give her and Oliver video capabilities and smiled brightly at the computer's camera. “Oliver! Hi.”

“Felicity.” Oliver looked surprised as he pulled his phone away from his ear. “Hi. I didn't know this phone could do that.”

(Maybe it was Felicity's imagination, but she thought that Oliver lost a little bit of that flinty look in his eyes when he saw her.)

“You changed your hair color.” He noted. “Again. Blonde suits you.”

“Oh,” she giggled. “Thank you.”

 _“Fe-chan!”_ Hiro Okamura called out from off camera. _“We're now ready to test the teleporter.”_

“One minute.” Felicity smiled placatingly at Oliver before turning away from the monitor. “Hi-chan, we are not testing the teleporters on ourselves. I don't know about you but I like my molecules just the way they are. Why don't you try it with something smaller?”

 _“Like Robin-san?”_ Came the reply.

_“Hey! Who are you calling small?”_

“No!” Felicity made a noise of frustration. “I meant something like an inanimate object.”

“I may have caught you on a bad time.” Oliver told Felicity the moment he had her attention again.

“Oh, no,” she denied hotly. “There's never a bad time when it comes to you. That's why I gave you a portable _Batwave_ so that you could call me anytime, anywhere. So, let's try again, shall we?”

Oliver did not reply but he did gave her a small smile (okay, she thought his eyes was smiling. He was definitely finding her amusing. She'll take it.)

“Hi, Oliver!” Felicity chirped. “I heard you have rejoined us in the land of the living. I'm sorry I wasn't able to call you. I was a bit preoccupied with a new project. So, how was your first weeks back in Starling City?”

Oliver frowned, opened his mouth to answer, then closed his mouth again when he failed to give an adjective to adequately describe being back home. 

“Yeah, I figured.” She grinned at him conspiratorially. “I read the—I mean Dick—”

_“Hey! Why are you guys always picking at me?”_

“Dick,” Felicity continued, ignoring the protesting teen. “Dick read the entertainment news sites. Not me. I don't have time for gossips and what not. Too busy. Anyway, Dick texted me a pap photo of you and Laurel Lance. She's your ex, right? The Internet exploded with stories of you and her and her sister Sara. Again.”

“Felicity?” Oliver tried to interrupt, in vain. 

(Felicity in full babble mode was harder to stop than a speeding train.)

“I know how awkward it is to see your ex. I mean, me and Hi-chan used to date but now we're broken up. We're here in space repurposing the _Watchtower_ together. It was difficult at first but we got over ourselves. Of course, I didn't date his brother while I was dating him so our relationship doesn't have that doomed from the very beginning vibe. Well, he doesn't even have a brother. Or a sister, for that matter.”

“Did you say you're in space?” Oliver goggled, but Felicity once again talked right over him.

“I don't understand why you're in the front page news with your ex anyway. I mean, if it was me, I'd run as far away as I can from my ex.” Felicity's eyes widened beneath her glasses when she realized something. “Unless you're still in love with her? You are, aren't you? I strongly recommend against rekindling the romance and suggest looking for a girl with less baggage, you know? Someone whose history is not as toxic as yours is with her. Someone like—”

“Someone like you?” Dick piped in as he wriggled himself between Felicity and the monitor. Then he did a double take at Oliver's face. "Are you wearing eyeliner? And eyeshadow? Less is more, my friend. Less is more."

“Well, Dick has a point.” She shrugged. “Why not someone like me?”

“If only you're a couple of years older.” Oliver smiled to soften his rejection.

“I've been told that I'm mature for my age.” Felicity told him.

“No, you're not!” Dick and Hiro chorused. 

“Okay, I'm not.” Felicity grimaced with the admission as she used her hands to push Dick's face away from the monitor. “But I'll be eighteen in a few months. And I'm already of legal age in some countries in Europe.”

“Oh, gag!” Dick made a face as he allowed himself to be forced away from the monitor.

“Felicity,” Oliver smiled. (A real one this time.) “You deserve someone better. One day, you'll meet a man who's unbroken, who still has his soul. Someone who you could be proud to call yours.”

A small explosion was heard from offscreen followed by a stream of Japanese curses, but Felicity and Oliver only had eyes for each other.

 _"Gomen nasai!"_ Hiro called out from outside the video camera's range. _“The teleporter is not yet ready. I repeat, the teleporter is not yet ready! Do not test on Robin-san!”_

“ _Hey!”_

“That man,” Felicity told him with a sad smile on her face. She knew instinctively that then was not the time to debate the matter; nor was it the time to make Oliver realize that he is better. Instead, she attempted to inject levity in the situation. “Is not the Toyman.”

“No.” Oliver replied, looking as if he was ready to kill Okamura-san if the latter even thought of being the man for Felicity. “He's not. Not even close.”

“Okay,” Felicity clapped her hand, signaling that their conversational land mine was now closed. “I'm sure you didn't call to listen to me babble. Let's try again. Third time's the charm and all that. You called? And you know you could call me anytime, anywhere.”

“Oh, yeah.” Oliver's face turned serious as he turned his phone to show a laptop on a table. “I was hoping you could salvage data from this laptop.”

“Oh, wow. That's one banged up laptop.” Felicity made a face. “Are those bullet holes?”

“Would you believe me if I say that my coffee shop was in a bad neighborhood?” He asked.

“Of course.” Felicity replied brightly. “Can you wait a couple of days for me to get to Starling or are you brave enough to volunteer that laptop for Toyman's teleporter as soon as it gets fixed?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge of Arrow is sourced from the television series. All I know of Batman and his mythos are sourced from the wonderful animated series and animated movies. All my research are done via Wikipedia.


End file.
